This Story is a Work of Fiction
by Eagleflame
Summary: This is a novelization of SMT IV, but it doesn't have demons. It works surprisingly well. If you're curious on the drastic changes it creates, give it a read. I hope you enjoy it with an open mind.
1. Dreaming

**Walter**

A man my age in a Samurai uniform stares me down. His wild green eyes dart up to his face before his hand weaves through his long black hair. He leans up on his sword—the sheath pulled out from the sword belt that he's not even wearing.

"Why am I here?" he asks, voice trembling. Exhaling sharply, he kneads the meat of his palms into his face and mutters under his breath, "Why did it happen again—?"

I take a step forward on the tar-like ground below us. It's marked by rigid white lines that, based on their placements, have to be purposeful for something—not like I'd know what is it that was. "Hoy there," I call. My raised hand in greeting drops as the man barely looks my way. "Do you perhaps know where we are?" Maybe he's been here before. I know I haven't. I'd most certainly have recognized the colored lights and rectangular, metal—buildings, I suppose—surrounding us. By their scale and proximity, it makes me feel on edge, and based on how the man is responding, he must be feeling the same.

"I'm the wrong person to ask," he finally states with a bluntness that makes me take a step back. Removing his hands from his face, he takes a moment to look around us. A wind stirs his coat—and a horrible, bitter stench that makes me cough. "Who are you?" The man's vivid green eyes return to me. He exhales and purses his lips shut, as if trying to hide a deep terror.

"I'm Walter," I reply. "Who are you supposed to be?" I say this with a tinge of annoyance.

"Flynn." He shrugs, uncomfortable, and raises his left arm up. One of those silver Gauntlets are there. The top slides open, and lights flash on it. I raise my own arm up, because if I can't be a real Samurai, I could at least dream it, right? Except the only thing on my arm is my blue three-quarter-sleeved tunic, still stained with mud from when I tripped near the river yesterday.

I plant my hands on my hips, a grunt escaping me. I guess even my dreams can recognize reality.

"Walter, please listen to me, you need to follow the others. The Gauntlet Rite cannot be ignored."

Confused, I look back up at Flynn, who's giving me a long, attentive stare. "How did you know that—"

"Whether you go or you run away, is that not the same to you regardless?" he asks, an urgency to his tone that I really don't get. I don't get anything about this man.

"Well, yes, though the Gauntlet Rite is just a waste of my time," I barb back at him. "Why I should bother is beyond me. Are you some part of my conscious trying to warn me or give me some advice or something?" As I add this with mockery, his nose twitches, and his mouth tenses up. I smirk. "Don't waste your time trying to convince me to waste mine."

Flynn lowers his Gauntlet now. A shimmering, human form flashes by his side. I gape my mouth and glance around for something I could use in case Flynn's decided I really wasn't worth _his_ time. I'm not quite sure what that blue creature is, but it mustn't be good. "I have been to enough of these to understand that the being in my Gauntlet keeps screaming something that cannot be ignored. Perhaps if you follow what your heart has been crying out for you will hear him, too?" He takes a sidelong glance at the shifting, bright figure. "It certainly cannot be found on any side roads you plan to take, Walter."

I stiffen as Flynn manages a thin smile my way. He turns to walk away, toward a massive pillar away in the distance that arches toward the black sky. Gasping, I break into a run to grab at him—

—as my mother, crouched, stares me down besides my cot. She smiles and releases my shoulder as she holds up a tray of tea in her other hand. I take a moment just to stare at her—she hasn't woken me up in years, I asked her not to—and then I let out a slow exhale and sit up.

"Walter, time to get up. You have a big day today." She chuckles as a reminiscent smile touches her lips. My mother is a beautiful woman; her dark hair is coarse and frames her face in a way that makes it look slender, and her violet eyes never cease looking so kind. "What kind of a dream were you having? You have the face of someone I've just pulled from an entirely different world."

I twitch my mouth as I slip my legs over the side of the cot on the floor of our living area. As I do so, I grab a cup from her. The beginnings of a sunrise burn through the window beside me and casts everything in a dim light; I don't normally wake this early. And after staying up for much of the evening plotting out a way to escape, I'd really rather not wake this early. "I don't know," I finally say. The tea is hot going down my throat. "A Samurai my age was talking to me. We were in a place with a lot of bright colors that hurt my eyes." I know full well not to disclose his reason for talking to me.

"Well, maybe it's a vision that you'll be chosen in the Gauntlet Rite. It doesn't sound like any location here, and conversing with a Samurai even!" She laughs, though I don't join in. "What's the matter? Nerves are perfectly normal, you know." She sips her own tea and looks up from the rim. "Even a big beast like you is human."

I grimace. "Hoy… I _want_ to be strong, I didn't say I was strong." With a pause, I remember the man in my dream. "I should probably head out now lest I'm late." With a roll of my eyes, I drain the rest of the tea and stand.

My mother frowns before lifting her lips in a wistful look. "Don't worry about the Rite, Walter."

I go to say I'm not, but I swallow that lie down and slump my shoulders. "I shalt not, Mom."

**Jonathan**

"Oh dear…" A Samurai with black hair rubs at his face and mutters under his breath words I cannot catch. Furrowing my brow, I take a step forward to try to catch what he's speaking—only to realize his words are not directed to me. I hasten to a stop in embarrassment.

The man pauses and looks up from his hand. A Gauntlet with a white glove marks his left, resting on the hilt of his sword removed from his belt, and I immediately bow in greeting. Frowning, the man cocks his head my way, then tips it forward in a shallow bow back.

What is a Samurai doing, visiting me in my dreams? Surely he knows the truth about me.

I take a glance around me. Dark, rusty sand shifts from a breeze around us; everywhere I turn I see only empty sand dunes and buried statues. The broken head of Aquila rests covered with a dusting of sand behind the Samurai. It's a sight that brings the taste of bile to the back of my throat.

I suppose the better question would be, what is a Samurai doing visiting me in such a dreadful location? I do not believe ever seeing somewhere like this in even my studies.

"Hello, Sir," I get out.

He flicks wary green eyes my way. "Hello," he responds—but with a hollow ring to it. "And who are you, Luxuror? Surely you are not just a Luxuror, correct? So what is your name?" His mouth stretches into a thin smile.

I blink, taken aback. "My name is Jonathan," I reply, more than a little confused. Who speaks to another in this way when it's not done in condescension? "Who might you be—?"

"I'm Flynn," he says.

Flynn. Even with a name now, this man is unfamiliar to me. I have never seen this Samurai before, unless he is not on any of the groups I watch patrol the districts.

Even though I know it is a stretch to expect any answer, I ask regardless, "Do you know where we are, Flynn?"

The Samurai takes his time to look out at the pale blue sky and the sand in the distance that seems to stretch onwards, forever. A sigh escapes him. "I expect only you would know the answer to your own question, Jonathan," he says. "How long have you been old enough for the Gauntlet Rite?"

His question makes me take a step back in the sand. Every time I move in it, more slip into my shoes, and I grimace and dust my blue doublet off to try to distract myself from it. "Eleven months," I mutter. "But how did you know that I missed last year's by only three weeks?"

Flynn gets a slightly humored expression to his face, though it disappears quickly into his same quiet, bothered stare. "You seem more than prepared to face what is ahead of you."

"It is my duty to become a Samurai and protect the kingdom of Mikado," I say, as if it were obvious.

"You have your own opinion, do you not? I already know the duty of a Samurai," Flynn reminds, tugging at his coat. I look down with a wince and draw my foot through the sand. "If you want answers, you must move past what they all expect of you. Perhaps then you will discover the meaning of this place to you." He gestures to the sandscape around us. "But as long as you keep the blindfold on, you will never understand."

"I…" My mouth feels dry, like the sand in my shoes.

"You need not give any answer right now. Time is neverending in the valley of the empty." Again, he gestures to our surroundings. "Farewell, Jonathan." I watch him grab his sword by the sheath, and he walk past the head of Aquila, only to pause and place his hand on the sand-polished stone. He turns to give me an odd smile. "Just don't stay in the valley of the empty."

* * *

I groan and throw my arm over my face as sunlight pours through the window by my bed. After a moment, I turn to my side so the sun's to my back, and I wrap the blanket tighter around myself while I stare down at the floorboards.

So, it is today that the Gauntlet Rite takes place.

I roll back around to catch the angle of the light—and a sigh of relief escapes me. I have more than enough time to prepare.

This year is the year. I have to prove that I too have a role in our kingdom. Need I remind you, Jonathan, that failure to wear a shining Gauntlet is treason to your dreams and treason to everything you hold most dear. I will not be yet another defenseless, careless Luxuror. I will not walk our streets like Father and the others do.

A peeved yowl wakes me up from my thoughts, and I shake my head hard to clear the sleep from it. My brown tabby David stretches his paws onto the bed and leaps onto it. He gives me a sullen, orange-eyed glare. With a sigh, I stand up and toss the blanket down beside David, who is not impressed with my gift to him.

"What do you think, David?" I murmur as I go through my armoire. "What about this blue one? I dreamt I wore it whilst in conversation with a Samurai. Perhaps it is a sign?" I turn back to him holding my long-sleeved doublet. David, unamused, turns to cleaning off his paw. With a roll of my eyes, I grab a pair of wool pants and replace my sleepware for them. "It may not be the most…elegant of outfits for the occasion, but I believe there was a reason I was in this in my dream."

Again, David gives no reply. He rubs his paw over his ear and glints his large eyes my direction, as if in an accusatory way.

"Refrain from giving me that, we both know perfectly well Nicola has already given you your breakfast," I remind, slipping on a white shirt and then a vest. Finally, I put on the ornate doublet and smile when I can smell something cooking. "And I must go to mine."

As I walk out, the cat follows, and I head into the kitchen area. Nicola turns from the open fire and the spit she's clutching. "Good morning, Young Master. You have quite the big day today." She casts me a mirthful smile before returning to the bread. "Of course, we said that the month after the last Gauntlet Rite…"

I let out a light chuckle as I sit down. David paces on the floor beside me before finally sitting down, as if awaiting treats from my own breakfast. I nudge him a little with my toe. "Yes, we did say that."

"I find it difficult to believe you are already old enough to be a Samurai." Her blond hair shifts as she turns the bread on the spit. "I…sometimes wish your mother and father could see that. Ah, but I shouldn't speak of them in that way."

Nicola was initially paid by my parents to be my wet nurse. But the more time ran, the longer she stayed until being my mother was her job. It is difficult to see her not as a mother-figure, really. My goal is to be a Samurai, but every dream has its prices, I suppose—losing Nicola is one of them.

"Perhaps they do not see our lives as worth the time away from the Monastery," I reply, awkward.

"It's a pity," she states, pulling the bread away from the fire. "Have you given consideration to what you will do after the Gauntlet Rite?"

Her question makes me pause. "How do you mean?"

"In the case if becoming a Samurai is not the path God has for you." She then smiles wide. "Though it's not as if I doubt in you, Young Master."

"Thank you, Nicola." I smile back at her.

"Of course, David will probably have to stay here," Nicola adds, casting a scrutinizing look to the cat on the floor.

"Of course." I then sneak a wry look his way. He raises his upper lip at me to reveal his pointed teeth.

Nicola puts my bread onto a plate, and she sits down in front of me with her own. "Oh, but now David will be my young master." Her expression briefly changes to a wicked cunningness that makes me gape at her, and she laughs and takes my hands in hers. "Let us pray."

**I didn't expect to do as much research as I did for medieval clothing and food. Also, did you know that the closet didn't actually appear until after medieval times, and it wasn't for clothes? (It was for private time because unless you were rich, you didn't have your own room.) Also, coat hangers weren't a thing until the 1800s. Good to know, I guess. It was kinda fun, writing two very different ways of life in a single chapter.**


	2. To the Gauntlet Rite

**Walter**

Within our small fishing village, there are only three of us heading to the Gauntlet Rite this morning. Only a handful of people came out to see us off—not like it matters too much if they do so or not, considering we'll only be trudging back home by evening.

Aland has been quiet for most of the trek to Mikado Castle from the kingdom outskirts. I'm not quite sure why, considering how for the past week, he refused to keep quiet about the fact that he turned eighteen that close to the Rite. "One more week and I would have needed to wait another year!" he was fond of reminding us. Maybe now that the day's finally here, he's been overcome with fear or…something to that degree.

As we walk up to a bridge, he puts his hand up, stopping both I and Rosealie from going any further. "Walter—?"

"Oh! So he speaks!" I say, throwing a laugh in so he did not take too much offense to the statement.

"Ah…" He rubs the back of his head, then takes a second to itch at his closely-cropped brown hair. "This is where we part ways, isn't it?"

I give him a stare. Then I let out a short exclamation that makes Rosealie snort out a snigger. "Yes, I…decided that disobeying direct orders to appear for the Gauntlet Rite was most probably a mistake." I give a tense smile his way.

My friend nods, a little confused. "It's just, you were so adamant about running away yesterday."

"You're trying to convince him to leave us?" Rosealie asks in shock.

Aland stammers. "No, I just, I wanted to be sure Walter was going to do what he wants to, that's all."

As she replies, I nod along, though my head's drifting off to that man, Flynn, and the creature he had with him. It was "screaming" something, something that Flynn told me I'd hear if I did what I needed to do. Right now I'm just trying to reassure myself that by wasting my time at the Rite, I will be successfully avoiding my duties at home. And that is something I am pleased to do any day.

The gravel crunches under my feet as I turn back to the bridge. "Well, I appreciate the sentiment, Aland, but alas, I shall be withering away my time with the rest of the youth of Mikado!"

My friends laugh and shrug off what I was initially planning on doing, and we continue on, over the bridge, past more farms and Casualry districts, until, two hours later, we pass into the Luxuror districts.

"We have to be getting near the castle if…," Rosealie starts, only to fade off when a red-robed Luxuror glances our way.

I look over at her with a furrowed brow. "You don't have to be embarrassed. We're Casualries, nothing we do is going to _impress them_." I aim this statement to Aland, who twitches. "Besides, who needs those kinds of responsibilities? I for one am relieved I do not need a code for walking in public." Smug, I give them an "I rest my cast" shrug, and they awkwardly nod.

"Hoy, we're making good time," Aland says, pausing nearby a marketplace. "We could buy some food for a quick meal, then buy something for later tonight? We'll have a long way to go…"

"That's not a bad idea. How much do you have on you?" Rosealie asks him. Aland's awkwardness grows until his ears are red.

I sigh. "I'll buy today." How do you expect to be chosen at the Gauntlet Rite if you cannot even remember to carry macca on you? Oh, right. No one expects to be chosen for the Gauntlet Rite. Not even my parents, who sent me off with a "We'll see you tonight for supper, Walter."

We approach a stall, and I gesture to some of the oranges the merchant has. "Six of your finest, please." He gives me a skeptical look, but he accepts my macca regardless and hands me the six oranges I asked for. I doubt they were the finest, but we get more apples and strawberries from the surrounding villages than oranges—for me, this is fine enough.

I put three of the fruits in my bag and toss the other two to my friends, keeping one for myself. As we walk to a nearby alley, I hold it up as if to show them something. "Enjoy a taste of the bitter, friends. 'Tis our fate this afternoon."

Aland goes to peel his—only to freeze when someone chuckles nearby. He instantly goes to put his orange away, but I grab his wrist and look up at the tall man who's stopped beside us. I stare at him as he gives us a smile.

"I apologize, I was just about to head over there—" He points to a line of residential quarters on the opposite side of the street. "—when I caught your joke. You have quite the sense of humor." Returning to his polite stance beside us, the fair-skinned, curly-haired man remains where he stands. The Luxuror even _sounds_ like he's never touched a tool in his life! Probably spent half of his life in a choir…

I grunt a little. "I wasn't making a joke." Not looking at the man, Rosealie fingers her orange but won't peel it. "Sorry, I need to keep moving…"

"Oh no, I am sorry, I've interrupted something. I wish you good luck at the Gauntlet Rite today." A hesitant look crosses his face. "Have you found where it's located?"

I go to say something, only to fall short, and I purse my lips.

"It's in Aquila Plaza," he says politely. "You cannot miss it. There would be a crowd." Smiling wryly, he turns around and walks toward a door on the other side of the street. "Goodday."

I watch as he knocks on it a few times, then, disgusted, I look back to my friends. "You can eat now."

They both nod quickly, and we sit down to enjoy our fruit without any more interruptions from any more noisy Luxurors with a sense of humor.

**Jonathan**

I rap thrice on the wooden door a few meters away from my home on the opposite side of the street. After a moment, a fierce-faced boy with a cowlick opens the door. I sigh (in my head, mind you) and muster up my best smile for him. "Hello, is Navarre home as of current?"

Gaston, sullen, turns his back to me. "_Navarre_!" he screams. "Your friend is visiting!"

I fight a laugh as I hear sharp muttering grow louder from inside the house. After a very long moment of the twelve-year-old still guarding the doorway with his arms folded tight, he's abruptly pulled away. Gaston complains, but heads back inside the house, stopping only to give a twisted, determined, and what I read as _angry_ look his older brother's direction. "You must not return without a Gauntlet!" he says, pointing at my friend's arm.

"How dare you, do you expect me to sully our family's name?" Navarre quips back at him. Gaston casts a skeptical look at him before finally heading back inside the house.

As he closes the door, Navarre rolls his eyes and mocks his brother. I chuckle. "How are you doing today, Navarre? Are you prepared for the Gauntlet Rite?"

Navarre, walking down the street toward the castle, folds his hands behind his back. I follow beside him. "Well, considering that the fact remains that I am disowned if I do not become a Samurai, I am doing less than desirable. But! I make do, like usual," he adds with a smug look. "I really ought to be asking if _you_ are prepared. Then again, you must have been ready since the prior year."

"Well, if I am not chosen, I have several options, I suppose." I too lace my hands behind my back and stride alongside my friend. Even though he's far shorter than I am, he walks surprisingly quick. "One would be to return home and merely reacclimatize my life to the fact that I am fated to be nothing more than a member of the caste system that drove the Casualries I spoke to earlier to dislike me."

The look he casts me is full of a cold mirth as he asks, "And the others?"

"Escape to Kicchigiorgi Forest," I deadpan. A smirking smile crosses Navarre's lips. "What say you? What will you do?"

"Why, I'd—"

Navarre's words cut off as he and I both turn around when someone grabs me from behind. Isabeau gives us a reserved smile and pulls back her hands from us. "Well now, here's a surprise," she says. "I heard Kicchigiorgi. Are you two plotting to escape your duties to live like a Casualry?"

I want to roll my eyes, but instead, I only twitch my mouth in response.

Isabeau, in a red silk gown, turns to Navarre now, who hides a guilty expression. "And what about you, Navarre? Do you believe you'll be chosen by the Gauntlet, or will you run away with Jonathan?"

"Who's running?" Navarre replies. "I know full well _I_ have nothing to worry about!" As if to prove a point, he laughs and raises his eyebrows. "Nonetheless, contingency plans would be helpful for your situation, Isabeau."

She raises her eyebrows. "I don't need a contingency plan. If I'm not chosen, I shall be a nun. My entire family is in the Monastery, so it is befitting that I shall join them." Casting me an odd look, she says, "Why would you not do the same? Is not your family within the Monastery as well?"

I fall silent. Letting out a cocky tongue click, Navarre folds his arms and says, "Perhaps he'd rather spend the rest of his life as a deranged cat man. Who can blame him with friends like us?"

"Thank you for not helping," I bite back.

He smirks, though Isabeau only lets out a tiresome sigh. "Please take today's Rite seriously."

Oh, you have no idea.

"I suspect Aquila Plaza will be inundated with Casualries in the hours approaching," Navarre notes with distain. "Shall we wait for high noon at the gates?" As he pulls out a wooden comb and a pocket mirror from his green doublet, he glances back toward Isabeau. "Note the seriousness in which we take this Rite, our desire to be ahead of the mob that will surely strike our Castle Mikado."

He tilts the polished metal to catch the light and flash it back at the woman's unamused face. After a moment, the Luxuror, with a cunning smile, returns it to his own face, and he darts the comb over his brown pompadour.

"I would prefer to not waste my time at the gates myself, but you two can go on ahead," Isabeau says with a slight scowl. She takes a step back and shrugs off toward a different district. "I will see you there."

The woman turns heel and strides off. I hastily raise a hand in farewell, but I lower it immediately when I know she'll never see it.

**Flynn**

What am I supposed to do now…?

I put my arm over my face as I stare up at the sky. It peeks through the leaves of the tree above me, which give a good shade compared to how warm it's becoming.

With a sullen frown, I squeeze my eyes shut and try to focus on the soft soil underneath me and the clean smell from Lake Mikado instead of the pounding in the back of my skull. Here we are, an hour away from Castle Mikado and two hours before the Rite begins, and I have to take another rest. Why did I have another nightmare last night? I certainly do not need one before the Gauntlet Rite! That is frightening enough…

"Hoy, Flynn."

I sit up a bit as Issachar casts me a half-smile from beside the tree. He met up with me at the gates of Kicchigiorgi wearing a odd sort of attire for today—I was unaware he even possessed a garment such as this, one of his standard cloaks, only cut and altered to have feathers. He seems so proud of it, though. I do not want to tell him the Luxurors might think he is strange.

"Are you feeling any better? We ought to head off soon!" he chimes, putting a hand onto his hip. He told me his outfit will make him fit in better once he is a true Luxuror. He is so certain he'll become a Samurai. I wish I had the same confidence.

"Oh. I suppose…," I reply, sitting up a little more. This is a lie, of course, because my head still has a hammer pounding at it. However, we no longer have the luxury of time to take any more rests.

Issachar casts an energetic look down to me as I stand slowly. "Do you remember any of those dreams you said you had last night?"

I let out a bitter chuckle. "They were more along the lines of nightmares. But I do not, unfortunately." I really do wish I recalled what had occurred in my sleep, especially considering I felt exhausted upon awakening.

"Gosh, that's a pity. At least you have the Gauntlet Rite to look forward to today! Take your mind off of all that," he adds, an edge of frustration in his tone. As if it were ever that easy.

"Sorry," I murmur. As he starts down the hill we stand on, I tug out the ribbon in my hair to redo it. "Give me a moment, Issachar, alright? We will make it with enough time."

He stops midway down the hill. Annoyance darkens his face—but it's replaced with a smile so quickly. "Let me help you with that." Instantly, he's back up to the tree and is grabbing the ribbon from me. I keep my long black hair clutched in my hands as he knots the white strip of cloth. Finally, I feel it tighten, and I drop my arms back to my sides. Issachar nods back toward the castle, and I shrug my shoulders and follow him down the hill.


	3. The Gauntlet Glows Once More

**Walter**

As Aland, Rosealie, and I force our way through the crowd of 18-year-olds gathered around the gates to Aquila Plaza, I let out a huff and grip tight to my friends—considering they'd kill me if I so far as let us get separated. If either of us were chosen and we all were not there to witness it, I was told not-so-subtly by Rosealie that my body would be the next day's catch.

We get to around the middle of the crowd when I run into the rough fabric of Aland's tunic. I grunt and recoil back, rubbing my nose, and I go to ask what the big problem is, only to see him also grumbling. I furrow my brow. In front of us is a Casualry man in an oddly-styled cloak, who, I don't think, has even noticed we hit him!

"Hoy…," Aland starts, annoyed.

The man twitches and finally turns our way. He manages a sheepish smile our way. "Oh, sorry, are we in your way?" Turning briefly back around, he reaches out to another Casualry with long, tied-back black hair. He looks over toward the man, who moves his attention to us.

And piercing green eyes burn directly at me.

I take a step back in shock. But he couldn't possibly be—

Flynn's mouth creases, and he returns his stare to what has to be his friend, who points deeper into the crowd. He nods, and they push forward until they're swallowed up by all the people.

"Hoy, Walter, what's up with you?" Rosealie asks, nudging me.

I flash a scowl at her. "Nothing. The one guy just looked familiar, that's all."

Aland laughs a bit. "I don't believe I've ever seen a man like that in our village! That was quite an outfit he had on!"

"I didn't mean him," I snap. "The other one, the one with the black hair."

My friend puts a hand to his unshaved chin in thought. And then he scoffs a chuckle. "I think I would have recognized him, too."

"I wonder where they came from," Rosealie says. "Do you think you saw him at the market once? Maybe _that's_ why he seems familiar." She smiles confidently and points a little my way.

"I doubt that…," I deadpan. They would think I'm neurotic if I say the truth—that he visited me in a dream and knew things about my life I only told my closest friends. "I'm certain there are others with hair that dark, I probably saw a Luxuror on our way here that he reminded me of." I crack a smirk as I tell her this.

She laughs and continues through the crowd. "Come on, if we'll have to leave in good time, we need to be in the front!"

Aland and I hurry after her.

**Jonathan**

"Imagine. If we had not arrived early, we would have been stuck with the Casualries in the back," Navarre notes with distain as he adjusts his collar, then his knotted scarf.

My gaze roams to the line of people who share the front of the crowd with us. Two Casualry men push past a Luxuror in the front, who gripes at them, and I cast a wry smile Navarre's direction. He does not seem to notice, which I suppose is a good thing, given that I would be hearing about the disgrace of their actions for the next half-hour.

"How shall we spend our time?" I ask.

Navarre looks up at me with annoyed confusion.

"In Kicchigiorgi. How will we spend our time?" I smile. "We really must plan ahead for the prospect that we are not chosen."

I catch movement in the corner of my eye, and I glance over to the two Casualries, who've began staring at the castle.

I stiffen as the sun catches on the one's black hair.

Navarre grunts. "Are you really so expectant of disappointment, Jonathan?" A sigh then escapes him, and he folds his arms. "Though considering the numbers chosen in prior years, I suppose it would be prudent." He lifts a hand up as he thinks.

"We must consider the concept of hard toil," I suggest. "Kicchigiorgi is a farming village, Navarre." This makes another displeased sound escape him, and I chuckle.

"Excuse me?" I turn in surprise as a voice sounds beside me. One of the Casualry men who moved to the front approaches me with a thin smile. Navarre takes one look at his feather-designed cloak and turns his nose up, which only adds to the man's tense demeanor. "I'm sorry, I overheard Kicchigiorgi."

Back where he once was standing, the other Casualry puts a hand to his face as he shakes his head.

"Oh, yes. Myself and my friend were just discussing what one would do in such a village," I reply politely. Remembering Nicola's lessons, I extend my hand out. "My name is Jonathan."

"I'm Issachar," he replies, gripping my hand tight. His feels rough and calloused. It's a far cry from the hands of a Luxuror. "So you were wondering about life in Kicchigiorgi, huh?" he asks with a grin. "My friend and I, we can tell you. Hoy!" he calls out to the man, who starts and shifts back a little. Issachar grows awkward. "He's feeling unwell today, so…"

"That's fine," I reply.

Navarre pushes himself up and hisses in my ear, "Stop fraternizing with the Casualries."

With a shake of my head, I return my attention to Issachar, who's peering toward his friend, who's gesturing to the plaza.

"Ah, sorry, sorry, I need to go," Issachar says.

"It's no trouble," I reply. He smiles and nods at me, then hurries back over to his black-haired companion, who folds his arms at him.

Frowning, I attempt to get a better look at the Casualry, but Issachar's sudden movement blocks him completely now.

"You down there! It's your turn." Both Navarre and I look up at the Samurai at the front of the crowd, whose attention is toward the Casualries.

**Flynn**

We glance at each other, and Issachar tenses up with excitement.

"Hoy." Issachar gives me a wide smile. "No matter what happens, I'll always be your friend. Remember that, Flynn." He grabs my arm and gives it a tight squeeze before striding onward. I watch him walk up to a monk in white in the middle of the plaza.

After what feels like a long while of him being up there, I let out a short sigh. I almost never see Samurai patrol out as far as Kicchigiorgi. This is most probably the last time I will see him, unless I need to go into town, I suppose, and he had to spend all our time here engaging with Luxurors who couldn't care less…

"You there!" I look up in surprise as the scowling Samurai in front of us folds his arms down at me. "It's your turn."

Nervous, I glance over toward Issachar, at the center of the plaza with the monk and master Samurai. I turn my gaze back to the Samurai, who tosses his head to the side as if to say, "Get moving." Keeping my head down, I push past a couple of Luxurors by my sides at the front, and the Samurai watches me walk past him.

The further from the crowd I walk, the more their din turns into a muttering behind me, and the more the clacking of my boots grows louder. I take a look around at the spacious plaza flanked by the castle, the Samurai keeping watch on a tower, the line of master Samurai fully cloaked in front of the statue of Aquila. It feels odd, this feeling buzzing in my chest—I don't know if I should feel like it's an honor or a shame to walk on hallow grounds.

A Samurai stops me a couple of meters away from Issachar. The white-robed monk in front of the line of masters is taking a silver Gauntlet off of his left arm, and he gestures to the crowd.

I freeze as Issachar turns my way. His hazel eyes give me a long stare, and his mouth shudders, and at the gesturing of the Samurai beside me, he finally adjusts his cloak and slips past me.

"Issac—," I begin. The Samurai pushes me forward, making me stumble, and I pull myself away and make the rest of the distance to the waiting monk.

My boots stop on the cobble, and I glance down to the white-clad man's hands. In them is a mystic Gauntlet, tarnished in places and pitted on the side, as if there was once a dent there someone tried to hammer out.

"Give me your ar—," the man starts as I look up at him. His face changes to a muted shock, and for a moment, he just stares at me.

I furrow my brow—am I really so strange to him? I…I am aware my black hair is different from even my parents', but to warrant such a reaction?

"I, I apologize," the monk says with a shake of his head. "You reminded me of a Samurai we once had in our ranks. Perhaps this is a sign from above?" A strained smile touches his lips. "We will soon see. Give me your left arm."

As I do so, he takes it and slips the heavy metal Gauntlet onto it. The top of the Gauntlet slides open so quick it makes me jolt, revealing a surface that glows.

The monk never takes his eyes from that light. "Please, touch the surface, if you may."

Pursing my mouth, I press my fingertip onto it—and the surface changes as mystic script flashes onto it.

The monk's head shoots up. "We have a Samurai!" he screams. "Blessed Samurai!"

I whirl around to Issachar, who's standing at the front of the crowd. Except the look he gives me is a shock that's absolutely devoid of everything that I expected from my friend.

He turns and walks into the crowd, and I'm being grabbed by the monk. He turns me toward a door in the castle walls, where a Samurai in a white coat steps forward. As he approaches, the monk gives him a firm look. "Please escort this prentice to the barracks, Sir Hope."

The older man with silver hair turns his gaze to me—and his eyes go wide.

"I am under orders from Abbot Hugo, Sir, you are to obey them," the monk snaps. He gives a short glance my way.

"I understand," the man finally forces out. "Come with me, prentice." He shifts his shoulder in the direction of the castle doors, and I hastily follow by his side. "What's your name?" He looks back toward me in a guarded manner as he asks this.

"Um, Flynn," I reply.

He gives me a tight smile and holds the wooden door open. "My name is Hope, Sir Flynn. Welcome to Castle Mikado."


	4. Ahead of the Game

**Walter**

Oh, for the love of all that is—

The Luxuror stares at me as he keeps his hand outstretched. "I am Jonathan. I believe we met near the marketplace earlier today?"

I sigh and take it, and I shake hard to test the man's grip. He responds with clenching his hand, and I manage a half-smile. So he's not all choir boy after all. "Walter."

The monk who escorted me here bows quickly as he says, "Be prepared for tomorrow's training exercises. An envoy will be coming within the week to return to you personal belongings from your home." He straightens his white robe out and leaves, closing the door behind him.

My gaze flicks over to the shorter man with Jonathan. He raises his upper lip in disgust—probably his language for "hello" —and folds his arms.

I roll my eyes. "Believe me," I mutter to myself, "I wish I wasn't with you, too."

The room I was escorted to has three cots, dressers, and storage chests. It also contains two Luxurors. It's not a large room, but it's nearly half of my entire house—and it is just a room for resting. Is a separate room for such an act commonplace in the castle grounds?

Jonathan turns toward his friend and says, "Did you want to rest before our training begins tomorrow? I was just about to explore the corridors and familiarize myself with our new home."

The man stares at him. "I'm not about to leave you to your own devices." I flick my eyebrows up in surprise—he has a surprisingly deep voice.

"What?" Jonathan blinks, then lets out a light laugh, as if the Luxuror was joking.

Scoffing, he grabs the taller man's sleeve. "Didn't you get what I told you? I'm coming with you."

"You really do not have to—"

"Do tell me what happened last time you did something like this." He raises an eyebrow up as he folds his arms.

With a shrug, Jonathan replies, "Well, I only became a little turned around."

The man blusters out a scoff. "A little?"

"I'm fine," Jonathan says, his mouth tightening.

The angry look that flashes across the shorter man's face seems out of place for what little I've seen of his demeanor—and honestly, it scares me a bit. He takes a short breath, grits his teeth, then says, "What, and leave me with the Casualry? Surely not!" Jonathan's friend leads him off before Jonathan could hold any more protest.

Geez…

I sit down on the bed against the right wall and cross my arms as I lean back. My head hits the cold stone.

_"__I have been to enough of these to understand that the being in my Gauntlet keeps screaming something that cannot be ignored. Perhaps if you follow what your heart has been crying out for you will hear him, too? It certainly cannot be found on any side roads you plan to take, Walter."_

So that Samurai in my dream was correct, huh…?

I lift my left arm up to study the Gauntlet weighing on it. I wonder what my parents will say when the envoy arrives to bring my things to the castle. I wonder what my friends will say when they realize I won't be returning.

A sigh escapes me, and I close my eyes. "Can't believe I can even say such a thing…" Living in a castle—is that not how Luxurors live? But even most Luxurors cannot live here. Are we Samurai beyond even them?

"Why did that Samurai even care…?" I mutter under my breath.

I then straighten when I recall the Gauntlet Rite. The man with black hair and green eyes who looked exactly like the Samurai in my dream. Could he and that man be the same?

Grunting, I itch at my hair and stand up. I glance over to the door.

Could he be somewhere in the castle?

I grin and hurry out of the room and into a long corridor. After a moment of looking, I pick the right side and head down it, glancing into the windows of every door—more barracks. A few senior Samurai sit in one room, none of whom I'm looking for, so I keep moving. Only, the sound of a door opening makes me freeze in my tracks.

A lanky Samurai with curly blond hair leans up against the doorway, his arms folded. A half-smile lingers on his face. "Hoy, you're one of the new prentices, right?"

I blink. "Yes—?"

Are you kidding me?! Am I in trouble already just for walking around?!

The man's brown eyes drop down to my Gauntlet. "You are aware you do not need to wear that unless you are in duty, correct?"

"I…" I then see his hands—he isn't wearing one. My heart drops. Already I'm being humiliated. "I guess I wasn't, Sir." I rub the back of my head and force out a chuckle.

The man's smile widens a bit. "I was chosen just last year. You're from that fishing village a ways out, yeah?" I nod. "Welcome to the castle. Do you want me to help you out with the Gauntlet? I guarantee that you'll be ahead of your fellow prentices by tomorrow's training."

One side of me burns with embarrassment at needing to be helped. Another side of me burns with an excitement at seeing those Luxurors' faces when I've mastered my Gauntlet while they're off wandering about the castle grounds.

"Sure. Thank you."

The Samurai leads me inside his room, where two other men give me encouraging smiles. "I'm Mark," the man says. "This is Peter, and that red-haired fella's Samuel."

"I'm Walter," I reply, looking to each of them.

"Actually, we were supposed to be on duty in the castle during the Gauntlet Rite, helping new prentices out and whatnot," Peter, straddling a chair next to the door, says with a joking laugh. "I didn't even think there would be any!" Slung across the back of the chair was a blue Samurai coat and a belt with a sword hanging from it.

A man with straight, wine-red hair cracks a smirk as he leans up against the wall, his legs pulled up in a crossed position on a bed. "Here we are, still doing our duty. Color me surprised." He cocks an eyebrow at me. "What were you doing over here? Were you trying to find someone? Usually new prentices like to wander the castle's more interesting wings!" A deep-throated laugh bursts out from him.

"Actually, I was looking for someone."

Peter gives me an odd look as he leans over the chair's back. "You know someone in the castle, Walter?"

I sit down in another chair Mark pulled over for me, and he sits down beside me on a bed. "Not quite, but… He spoke to me before the Gauntlet Rite and encouraged me, and I just wanted to find him, is all."

"Who was this Samurai?"

"I bet it was Joshua. That man's always patrolling in the weirdest of places," Samuel notes from his position against the wall.

Peter snorts. "Joshua's also our senior, and it's far better he patrols those areas rather than always the castle grounds!"

"Hoy! It wasn't this Joshua," I say with annoyance.

"Sir Joshua." I whip my gaze over to a quiet Mark. "When you address your fellow, you refer to him as 'sir.' You don't want to get reprimanded for something I did when I first came here, not when you've got three Samurai at your disposal for help." He smiles. "Now, we're not worth the extra regard."

"What?!" Samuel outcries. "I finally get to have someone calling me sir other than the commander, and you're telling him he doesn't have to?"

Mark gives him a twisted sneer. "Luxuror."

Awkwardly, I rub the back of my head. "Hoy…"

Great, more rules to remember. You live in the castle, and you have just as many codes of conduct as the Luxurors.

An exasperated sigh escapes me, and I pull my leg up onto the chair seat. "Anyway. I'm looking for a Flynn."

The three Samurai all look to each other as if waiting for the other to chime in with the answer. Finally, Mark glances back to me. "I've not heard of him."

"You haven't?" I ask in surprise.

Then, was the man in my dream and the man at the Gauntlet Rite, was it truly just that Casualry? But how could he appear to me as a Samurai and know what all of my plans were?

"Regardless," the blond-haired man says, taking my Gauntlet into his hand, "this Flynn fellow will probably show up tomorrow. You must've misheard his name, no?"

"Hoy, I bet he's a ghost!" Peter says with boisterous glee. "Some fallen Samurai or something!"

"Yikes…," Samuel mutters.

I glare at the both of them before sighing. "Sure." I turn my attention back to Mark. "Are you going to show me how to work this Gauntlet?"

He chuckles softly. "Yes, if you'll give me some patience. I'm telling you, by the hour of supper, you'll be able to do quite a bit with this tool!"

"I'm holding you to that," I warn.

Samuel throws himself back against the wall. "Oho, at least one prentice will be spirited this year…"

**Jonathan**

"I wonder where our fellow has gone off to," I note beside the window. I glance out once more—the Gauntlet Rite continues, even now. While I can't see much of it, I can already tell the crowd has thinned out considerably.

Navarre, fixing the covers on his bed, hardly looks up as he says, "Naturally, he'd have left to traipse around the castle grounds. You and I both know someone of his birthright is to be surprised at everything he sees." Pleased, he finishes fixing the sheets and looks back up to me. "Why? Are you worried about the Casualry, Jonathan?"

"He just seemed disgruntled, is all. On another note—" I turn to my friend with a beam. "—we had no need for that contingency plan after all."

Navarre smiles wryly.

"I thank the Lord we both became Samurai," I add with a relieved sigh, heading to my own bed to sit.

"You never had any doubt," he says, laying down with a slight grunt. "Besides your own negativity, that is. Now your problem will be avoiding…ah, the Monastery."

My thankfulness throbs to a dark grimace. "Suddenly the rooftop no longer seems as cold of a place to pray."

Navarre nods slowly. His hand comes up and combs through his pompadour as he stares up at the ceiling. "It truly is a shame."


	5. The Five Prentices Together

**Walter**

The morning sun filters through the windows as I peer into the room. It's dead silent save for quiet breathing coming from the curled up figure under the blankets.

With an exhale, I lean against the doorway and eye the sky. It's only 5 AM—one more hour, and we'll have to be down at Aquila Plaza. I could wake him up now, or let him sleep a little bit longer. My Samurai robes didn't take too long to get on, though it took a little time just trying to figure out the belts, much to the two Luxurors' delight.

But it's more the anticipation that makes me want to give him an early rousing.

It took a bit after supper, but with Mark's help, we managed to find the other prentices' rooms. One of the last chosen was a Luxuror woman in a red gown, which they found immediately while we dined. She seemed less-than-impressed with meeting me, I must say. And I her, clearly, considering I cannot recall her name for the life of me.

We had the choice to be escorted back to the barracks, which myself and that woman took (not my Luxuror roommates, though, who apparently have the castle layout memorized…). Samuel escorted her back to her room, in our same wing, while Mark kept going down the hall with me—he wanted to find the last prentice, who apparently didn't show at the mess hall.

It turns out our fellow has his _own room_—which apparently never occurs if Mark's shock was anything to go by. He was also asleep, so I couldn't even meet the last person I'll have to work with as a Samurai…but if his black hair was anything to go by, we might have already met. However, now that it's morning, and we all must convene in the same location… Why not say hello?

I rap on the open wooden door.

The man stirs, and I take my foot off of the doorframe. With a groan, he puts a hand to his face and sits up, and as he lowers his hand, searching green eyes lock onto me.

Chills sweep through my body.

Very quietly, Flynn runs his hands through his ratted black hair, let down and falling halfway down his back.

"Greetings!" I say, heading his way. He stops, blinks, and glances up at me before forcing a taut smile. As I stop by his bedside, he makes no motion that he recognizes me—so, either we don't share the same dreams, or it's too awkward for the both of us to say something. I stick a hand out. "I'm Walter. I'm a prentice like you."

"Oh," he utters. "Flynn." He shakes my hand and finishes going through his hair. I used to have long hair, but that was before I realized how, ahem, _impractical_ it is for fishing. When my mother found out, she made my haircut look a little nicer before insisting on letting her handle it from now on.

"So, you're a Casualry, too?" I grin. "Where are you from?"

"Kicchigiorgi," Flynn replies, not looking up. He stands, smoothes out his clothes, and eyes my own outfit. "Where did you find those Samurai robes?"

"The dresser," I reply.

Flynn blusters out a laugh. "Of course. How foolish of me."

"If it's any consolation, I looked in the chest first."

Flynn laughs harder. His demeanor has relaxed a bit. "I'm not used to any of this."

I put a hand on my hip. "Neither am I," I offer. "I felt like the fool in our room this morning."

"Oh?" Flynn grabs his Gauntlet off the bedside table, then goes over to the dresser. As he opens it, his eyes light up as a hand darts out to grab at the fabric of the Samurai uniform. Distracted, he asks, "You have others in your room?"

"Yeah. It seems the two Luxurors I share quarters with have…" Disgust settles onto my face before I could even finish. Flynn cocks an eyebrow and pulls the robes out. "Well, the one didn't even ask for my name. The other did, but it seemed more out of politeness than anything."

He's silent before removing his shirt and slipping on the Samurai robe. "They put me in my own room because of, ah…medical reasons. I wish I could understand your problems, but even on this end, it's pretty lonely." His thin hands tie the obi shut after hesitation. "I mean, I have yet to meet anyone except for you—are we not working as a team?" Doubt creeps into his tone. "I…I would have been at the supper, but I needed to rest off a headache, so I suppose I missed all of the introductions."

So that's why.

I let out a snort. "Believe me, you didn't miss a thing. We'll be meeting everyone in the plaza soon. I should probably head down, and so should you, Flynn." I turn to head out, only to awkwardly stop. "Oh, hey, Flynn, have we…met somewhere before?"

Flynn pauses and cocks his head. His eyebrows twitch down in confusion.

"Right, right, no, it was just a dream. Pay me no mind, I'm rambling."

He apologetically smiles as I leave. I'd call it mere coincidence, but the fact that he has the same name and appearance—?

No. It has to just be a dream. Right?

* * *

Entering Aquila Statue Plaza was like entering my new room for the first time, only instead of facing Jonathan and his silver-spoon buddy, I'm facing Jonathan and his silver-spoon buddy and that female Luxuror.

"Hoy," I call as I reach the three other prentices. Jonathan, with his wild mane of dark brown hair, perks up and gives me a smile, and yet again, his friend sniffs. I roll my eyes. "I see you took a scarf with you."

Jonathan blinks before adjusting the yellow ascot he wears. "Oh, yes, I actually…" I frown as he mutters something and pulls out multiple colors of scarves tucked into his obi. "I figured we'd all want one?"

"You never told me you had this schemed, Jonathan," his friend says.

The reddish-brown haired woman heads over to us. She's got her Samurai coat thrown around her shoulders like a cloak. "Where did you get them? You couldn't have known there would be five of us."

The short man replies, "Yes, where is our fifth member?"

"My father works in the Monastery," Jonathan says, ignoring his friend, "and he sent me these upon request." His amber eyes avert as he says this. "Do you want a specific color, Walter?"

I beam. "I like the blue scarf, myself."

Jonathan smiles and hands it to me. "I could help you put it on if you'd prefer." I bet you just know many ways to put on a scarf. Then again, I know specifically none. At least he's talking to me.

"Yes, that'd be nice." I suddenly remember what my mother always reminded me. "Thank you."

"It's no trouble." The man moves behind me and takes the scarf from my hand holding it up. "Is there a certain way you'd like it?"

"Eh, I really don't care about…"

"R-right, sorry." Jonathan's hasty, genuine reply makes me pause. He folds the scarf before looping it over my head. The warm fabric presses against my neck and tightens for a moment before loosening, and I can feel his fingertips against my nape. As he steps back, I touch it and smile. "Isabeau, do you want the red scarf? I remember you always liked to wear that color in lessons."

I smirk. "Oho, Jonathan…"

His face flushes a color similar to the scarf in his hand.

"Boys," Isabeau—right, that was her name—says, taking it from him. "Thank you, Jonathan."

He clears his throat and scowls a bit at me. "Navarre, I want you to have the green scarf."

"Naturally," the man replies, taking it from him. "I can tie it just adequately on my own."

"I wasn't assuming otherwise."

"Of course." His friend's tone is stiff as he crudely knots the scarf around his neck. "Thank you."

Jonathan chuckles, then glances around. "Where is our fifth companion?"

I look towards the doorway I entered the plaza through, and an uncomfortable silence settles around us. Finally, someone exits the castle. "Oh, there!" I say.

"Obviously," the short man sniffs.

From behind me, Jonathan utters, "That's—"

Flynn blinks, bewildered, as he heads toward us. I grin at him, and he holds a hand up in greeting before stopping awkwardly before us. "Um," he starts.

That pompadour Luxuror opens his big mouth again. "Are you the final prentice Samurai?"

Flynn doesn't respond. My face grows hot in anger, and I snip back, "He is, but look who's talking. Who are you, anyway? I think I'll just keep calling you the _pompadour Luxuror_ if you don't say otherwise."

The man, as if insulted, replied in a flustered voice, "Pompa— Pomp— Excuse me, I am Navarre, _Navarre_! This is the third time I've said as much!"

I snort a laugh. "Not to me."

A cunning look grows on Navarre's face. What a Luxuror name, it kills my brain just thinking it. "And you are…Walter, I presume? I believe I heard you mention it to Jonathan yesterday. How poetic, the two Casualries arriving last. They do tend to be dawdlers, which, as Samurai, is cause for some concern, wouldn't you agree, Jonathan?" He turns to the man.

Jonathan's eyes flash in anger. "That's enough, Navarre."

He crosses his arms. "How cutting, you're supposed to be on my side." _How childlike, you're supposed to be an adult_, I mock in my head.

Isabeau chuckles. "Keep that up, and you will be giving our new arrival a bad impression of us Luxurors."

I put a hand on my hip as a wide grin crosses my face. "Hoy, you may be a Luxuror, but I think we'll get along great," I say.

Her eyes dart my way. "I doubt it."

And that sword I carry with the Samurai uniform has just been stabbed into my heart.

She glances Flynn's direction. "You've been really quiet. Are you okay? I am Isabeau—what's your name?" Flynn says nothing and only presses his lips together. His trembling hands clutch his sleeves. "See, Navarre, you scared him."

"What? I did nothing of the sort!"

Flynn runs a hand through his hair, now pulled up behind his head with a scrap of white cloth.

"He's Flynn," I cut in. Flynn, in surprise, looks over at me, but he smiles regardless.

As I say the name, Jonathan looks like he's just been stabbed same as I. "Uh—…" He shakes his head and chuckles. Regaining his composure, he extends his hand out toward the man. "I am Jonathan, and I look forward to working with you, fellow prentice. I take it you already know Walter."

With a nod, Flynn takes the hand and pulls back when Jonathan shoves a white scarf into his hand. "What's—" His words fall short.

Jonathan knits his hands behind his back. "It is a gift. We all have different colors but the same scarfs to show that we are one team."

Flynn smiles and automatically ties it into a bandana around his neck. His suspicious look returns to his face that first creeped in when Jonathan acted like he also knew him from somewhere. I wonder if Flynn visits even Luxuror dreams.

"So, there's just the five of us?" I ask. "I mean, I know that was what we were told, but just five? Out of every eighteen-year-old in the kingdom?"

"Five is a much larger crop than usual!" Navarre says.

I clench my hands into fists. "Nav—"

Jonathan slams a hand over my mouth.

A baritone voice makes us all freeze. Jonathan clears his throat and steps away from me and Navarre. "…so I take it that you five are this years' prentices." As I look toward whoever's speaking, I see an old Samurai in a white coat. His hand goes to adjust a long plum scarf around his neck before eyeing all of us—probably figuring how best to kick Navarre out of the Samurai.

Navarre's face pales a bit as he stutters. "Ah, the commander's here…" Then he sneaks in a smile toward us.

"I take it introductions have already been in order?" he asks. "I am Commander Hope, and henceforth, you will be taking orders from me. Since you're already aiming to kill one another, I'd suggest taking out your emotions in your training exercises."

"I-I apologize, sir," Jonathan immediately says, throwing himself down into a bow.

"Relax, Sir Jonathan, correct?" Jonathan nods, his eyes widening in surprise. Hope turns to address the five of us now. "You will all be entering into Naraku! From there, I will be delivering you the information you require."

"Wait, Naraku?" Worry crosses Jonathan's face. "That's the place where the…creatures live, correct?"

"Eh, creatures…?" I say.

Hope nods slowly. "You're perceptive. Yes, it is. Except, among the Samurai, we call them _holograms_."

"Holograms?" I ask, incredulous. What on Mikado are _those_?

An odd grunt escapes the commander. "A Monastery term. Samurai must be prepared to do battle against these holograms at all costs and all times, and Naraku is the perfect place to understand that."

I furrow my brow. "I've never seen these things before in my life."

Hope says, addressing me, "They commonly attack Luxuror districts and remain nearby the castle." Jonathan looks away and rubs one arm. "You once were far away from the danger, but now you will be walking right into the heart of it."

"Right…," I reply. Great, I was picked to become a Samurai just to defend Luxurors.

Navarre stays silent, only looking upwards like this is the stupidest thing he's had to sit through because he knows everything. Isabeau purses her lips, then nods. "I see."

Hope hands each of us a small bag with a handful of items. I rifle through it before grinning and slinging it over my shoulder. Flynn manages to somehow wrap it around his waist, while the Luxurors do the same. How, I'm unsure.

"These items will be of extreme importance. Do not waste them." The commander continues, "Meet at the entrance to Naraku as a team." As he speaks, I glance over at Flynn, who taps the heel of his boot against the gravel and won't look at anyone. "I would recommend you _stay_ in a team until I give word, unless, that is, you have a death wish."

"Yes, sir," Jonathan says. I jolt back to attention and stammer a similar response.

"Sir," Flynn murmurs, his head nodding.

Hope stares hard at Navarre, who chuckles and raises his hands up. "Of course, I wouldn't dream of abandoning my fellow prentices."

He gestures toward a grated doorway in the castle wall. "The entrance into Naraku is right through there. I will be observing from your gauntlets. Good luck," Hope says.

"Thank you, sir," Isabeau says, starting forward. The rest of us hastily join her.

I sense Hope's eyes watching us from behind, and I shudder and tap Flynn's shoulder. "Hoy, are you alright?"

"I'm fine," he replies, "just tired."

"You went to bed early, though." Unless you used your headache as an excuse to stay up late without discovery.

"Heh…" Stretching, Flynn cracks a smile. "I was just restless in my sleep."

Before I can respond, Flynn hurries forward and tugs on Jonathan's sleeve. Jonathan turns to him and pleasantly smiles. As Flynn asks him something I can't catch, Jonathan looks surprised, but nods his head and gets a half-smile on his face.

"I have heard of you, yes. Have you ever visited the marketplace before? I believe that's where I heard your name being called," Jonathan says. At Flynn's response, Jonathan pauses. That's when I see the blatant lies written all over his face. "Oh… Hm. Perhaps it was the Gauntlet Rite, then."

My fellow Casualry shrugs.

"We're here," Isabeau comments. We gaze off at the barred door, and a senior Samurai standing guard beside it reaches over to grab the door. With a creak, it opens on its rusted hinges. "Well…"

"I believe we will do fine," Jonathan says, entering. "I would not worry."

"Who's worrying?" Navarre replies. I clench my hand into a tight fist, and I inhale and exhale before following the two Luxurors in.


	6. The Three Tests of Naraku

**Jonathan**

As a senior Samurai closes the gates to Naraku shut behind us, the five of us all turn to look at each other. Walter glances off to a grimacing Isabeau, then Flynn, who has his arms crossed as he looks up at the ceiling and raises an eyebrow.

I look toward Navarre beside me, who's keeping a sullen look on his face. When Walter's roaming gaze finally drops to him, he gives him a sneering smile. "Don't expect to be helped in our training exercises, Casualry."

"I alluded to no such thing," he replies with disgust. His calloused hands adjust the open front of his robe.

Flynn's sharp green eyes dart to each of us in turn. "Hoy, if we loiter any longer, Commander Hope's bound to fail us."

"By the way he watches us, I wouldn't be surprised," Walter mutters, stalking forward into a circular, sprawling cavern. He stops by a set of stairs winding down to the ground several meters below us before heading down them.

I glance around as we walk. The cave is lit more than I thought with scattered torches hung on the reddish walls—though by the lingering stench even at the doors, I'm not expectant of anything pleasant down here.

As Walter stops at the bottom, he itches at his roughly-cut hair and sighs out, "Burroughs."

I turn to him with surprise—and so does everyone else as a flat, feminine voice chimes out from the man's Gauntlet. "_Hello, Master._"

Walter grunts in a reply. "Could you scan this place for me? It's giving me the creeps…"

"_Scanning…_"

"Walter," I utter in shock. "How did you know to do that?"

He chuckles and rub his Gauntlet against his coat to polish it. "You could say I'm more resourceful than you thought."

Quiet, Flynn adds, "If you activate your own Gauntlets, she'll be there also. I was figuring it out this morning and accidentally scanned my own quarters…" A thin chuckle escapes him. "She calls herself a navigational AI, though I don't know what that means."

Navarre bites his lip as if trying not to utter a rebuke—he ought not to, either, since none of us have ever been informed about an "AI."

I flinch and raise up my Gauntlet as a sharp vibrate shocks up my arm. The top slides open, and Commander Hope's face appears on the surface. "Commander!" I exclaim.

"_Are all five of you present still?_" he asks.

I gesture to the others, who crowd around my arm. "Yes, we are, Sir."

"_Good. As you've probably seen, the Gauntlet is a useful tool for the Samurai. One of its functions is communication with your fellows, a function which I expect to be used. Is that made clear?_"

"Yes, Sir," Flynn murmurs.

"_Your first task will be in solitary. If you need any assistance, contact your fellows. The first thing to learn is that every Samurai is of the same blood. The moment you allow upbringing to interfere with your jobs is the moment you perish._"

At that, I flick my gaze to Navarre, who's looking off, annoyed. Isabeau, meanwhile, has her attention over to Walter, who's giving Navarre a surly glare.

"_I want each of you to find and capture a hologram. Burroughs will show you how to do so. I'll be scrying from your Gauntlets. Good luck, and God bless, prentices._" He nods on the smooth, glass-like surface and disappears.

"Great, he has eyes even here…," Walter grumbles under his breath. With a huff, he taps his Gauntlet and rubs his finger against the glass as he stares at it. "I'll see you hence. Best to get this done and over with." He heads off into a corridor at the end of the cylindrical room.

Isabeau sighs and straightens out her coat, worn over her shoulders. "I should begin the test myself. Farewell, you three."

I dart a glance toward Navarre, who scowls and gives me an equal look of distain. Flynn, doing something on his Gauntlet, raises his eyebrows as he lifts his eyes up to us. "Do you two know each other well?"

Navarre's scowl deepens at his question, and he folds his arms. "That's quaint, you assume that just because we are both Luxurors means we're familiars." His voice drips with acid.

"Well, you are, are you not?" Flynn shrugs, though his demeanor's turned sullen. "I wasn't aware Luxurors had pride toward even friendships. That's foolishness." His attention returns to his Gauntlet, where a map-like shape appears on the glass.

Gritting my teeth, I hasten to speak up before he does. "I apologize, Navarre has had too many assume he knew most others because of his family name." Though I'm looking at Flynn, I direct my words down to Navarre. "He just spoke too soon, isn't that correct, Navarre?"

He twitches at my cold glare down at him before huffing out an agreement. Flynn drops his Gauntlet arm back to his side, then turns toward the door that Walter and Isabeau left through. "Pardon my curiosity, then."

"Fly—" The man stalks out before I could attempt to rectify the situation. I walk past Navarre, making sure I nudge him to get his attention. "Keep safe doing your test, Navarre."

I push the door open without looking back.

**Walter**

I rub my arm as I wander deeper through the chill of the cave system that's turned from man-made to winding and rough too quick. As I approach a heavy metal door to my left, I stop and whip around when I hear footsteps behind me—only, it's Isabeau, casting me a calm look.

A grunt escapes me as I relax. "Do you know perhaps what these things even look like?" I ask her.

She hesitates only a moment before pausing by a turn in the tunnel. "I've only heard stories from Jonathan," the woman replies.

"Oh! Good, I'm not alone, then."

"I suppose." She rounds the corner and leaves me alone. I bellow out a sigh and try the door. It doesn't even budge. Of course it's locked.

My gaze falls to my white boots, already spattered with a slimy mud that carries the same rank, molding stench the rest of this place has. I kick at the ground, then go to turn around when I hear more footsteps.

"Hoy—," I start, looking their way.

Only, the thing staring back at me isn't at all human.

A scream escapes me, and I yank my sword from the sheath and face the lanky, glowing blue creature down. It crouches down, its arms gripping the ground, as what looks like maybe a mouth splits open on its blank head.

"_Scanning…_" Burroughs chimes in immediately, and as the _thing_—the hologram, whatever-they-call-it—eyes me over, its form flickers and shifts. I jump back as what was once blue and glowing like it had its own inner lamp changes into a twisted, dog-like creature with humanlike limbs. "_Do you need any assistance with recruiting a hologram, Master?_" Burroughs asks as though nothing bad is happening _at all_!

"Uh, perhaps?!" I shout hotly.

The creature's maw drops open. Saliva drips from its bloodstained teeth.

_We have to capture this thing_?!

"Is this what the Samurai truly do?!"

The door I came in from bangs open, and Flynn walks in—only to stop and stare at the hologram thing.

"Flynn!"

He immediately draws his sword and barks out a shout. The creature whips its orange-eyed stare to him. "Start a conversation with it," Flynn says without breaking eye contact with the hologram.

"What? Are you insane?!" I gasp.

"Perhaps." His tone is guarded, and he flicks his eyes to me briefly. "Let me try?" I nod and back closer to Flynn in case the thing goes in for the attack. Flynn exhales. "Hoy! You there!"

The hologram growls at him, then whines like one of those wild dogs back at home. "**Me?**"

I jump as a rough, mangled voice escapes the dog-creature. "Wha—"

Flynn tightens his jaw before speaking again. But despite his confidence facing it down, he's shaking. "Yes, you. What do they call you?"

It growls again, though weaker. "**Me has no name.**"

"Oh? My name is Flynn. Would you like a— A name?" He tries to smile at it.

My fellow takes a slight step back as the creature drags a grizzled hand against the ground. Its head tilts to the side, and drool spatters on the rock. "**Name? Flynn give me name?**"

As he tightens his grip on his sword, Flynn replies, "Yes, but you have to join my side. You have to fight others like yourself. Are you okay with that?"

I tense up as the hologram eyes Flynn down. But then it whines again and drops itself to a crooked bow, its jaw dipping to the slimy ground. "**Flynn no kill me if me join Flynn?**"

For just a moment, Flynn pauses as his mouth drops. We both then look down to the hologram, its eyes staring up at Flynn as if begging for his life. "I—" He steels himself. "Yes, I swear it upon the code of the Samurai."

A heavy exhale comes out from the creature. It then straightens and extends a shivering hand? Is that a hand? toward Flynn. "**You give me name?**"

"Inuma. Is that a suitable name?" he asks tightly.

It howls, making us both jump back. "**Me Inuma. Me join Flynn!**"

Flynn raises his Gauntlet, and the same light that came from mine when Burroughs scanned the creature falls on it again. Its form fizzles and disappears.

Breathing hard, his mouth gaped, Flynn looks at the glass front of the Gauntlet. "_Congratulations on completing the quest!_" his Burroughs cheers.

We both look at each other.

"Is that how you—"

At the sudden soft voice, we both then turn toward the door, where a stunned Jonathan and Navarre stand. Navarre—who had a horrified look on his face—quickly assumes a smug smile.

Jonathan lets out a quiet, stressed sigh. "Good job, Flynn. That… You completed that test so quick."

"I just, I ran into Walter, and he let me deal with the hologram. I really don't believe this is going to be as simple as Inuma was…" He hurries off, deeper into Naraku. "I'm sorry."

I stare as he rounds the corner. Is he shaken up, or—?

"Well, I suppose I ought to capture one of mine own lest the Casualries do so first!" Navarre blurts out, running past me.

"You are safe, Walter?" Jonathan asks me.

With a scowl, I reply, "Of course. To be truthful, I'd be more concerned for Flynn. Anyway, I need to actually capture one for myself now. At least now I know how it's done!" I bark a bitter laugh and continue deeper into Naraku.

**Jonathan**

I watch Walter go, and I bite my lip. We have to work with these holograms? But why work with creatures that only wish to—

My hand tightens around the hilt of my sword. I always believed the Samurai fought against the holograms, not…

I whip around as a distorted laugh cackles behind me. A floating, blue hologram stares me down. Its form crackles as if made of lightening. My Gauntlet flashes, and a light comes out as Burroughs says, "_Scanning…_"

When the light disappears, the hologram floating before me becomes a stout, furry creature with whiskers and a horn jutting out from its head. It wears an odd piece of clothing that looks like something I may see a child wear in my district.

After a moment of maintaining eye contact with me, it gives me a once-over before twisting its pursed mouth into a— A smirk?

"**Oooh, a new Samurai? You look so…so lost. You look lost. Can ****_I_**** help in any way?**" It spins head-over-heels and then giggles.

I pull my mouth down into a strict frown. "No. You are not to help me. You're a hologram—don't trick me, I already am aware of what you plan on doing." A perplexed look crosses its face, and it moves a little closer to me. I draw my sword and turn its point to the hologram. "Don't come any closer!"

It raises its upper lip, revealing small, pointed teeth. "**While you do look enticing, I got to admit, you… No. Not at all.**"

"What?"

"**You're just too tense! If you lighten up a little bit, you'll just be mauled by alllll the others, see, so by helping you now, nobody else will get a chance at you!**" A haughty laugh rips out from it. "**You see? I want to be your hologram. You need to stay tense, and I am the ****_perfect_**** presence for that!**"

As it spins in the air again, I keep my feet planted firmly to the ground. "Why do you _want_ to join me?" Its lack of self-preservation is rather concerning. There must be another reason for this.

"**Tit for tat, Samurai. I help you stay alive, you help me stay alive.**" A dark, eager expression crosses its animal-like face. "**You get me…? I don't want to die any more than you do. Why not? Is it because I'm a scaa~ry hologram?**" It makes a mocking face.

"I don't need the help of a killer," I retaliate. "Samurai are noble. How can they be expected to work with—"

"**To work with a hologram? You're writing your own death wish, Samurai. Really, you're quite foolish, I expected more from you.**"

Two more blue forms appear a few meters away from me, and I turn toward them with a gasp.

The creature continues speaking behind me. "**Come on, I want to help you. Maybe then I can feel like I'm a Samurai myself!**"

As it lets out a cackle, the other holograms advance, and I whirl toward him with my Gauntlet outstretched toward it. "Promise me! Promise me you will remain by _my_ side!" I shout.

"**As long as you remain at mine.**" It smiles coyly.

"I swear it as long as I be a Samurai!"

Its smile grows. "**I'm Al-Me, Samurai.**" The light appears again from my Gauntlet, and the hologram disappears.

I swivel back around to the holograms heading toward me, and I throw my left arm out. "Come forth, Al-Me!"

The furry creature flashes in front of me, truly like lightening, and screams a cackle at the two holograms. "**I'm just like a real Samurai now! I've been waiting ****_years_**** for this! Zio!**"

I shout and stumble back as _actual _lightening smashes onto the hologram closest to me. It lets out a gritty, incoherent scream and disappears. The second hologram, as I get ready to engage with my sword, stops and backs away before dropping into the floor like a spirit.

As Al-Me groans with disappointment, I stare at where it once was. When I'm certain it won't return, I straighten and let out an exhale.

The furry hologram turns toward me with a prideful look. "**See? You can't do it alone, Samurai.**"

My mouth goes dry. "I… Ah— Please, call me Jonathan, Al-Me."

Its smile grows. "**Good to be with you, Jonathan.**"

**Flynn**

I pause and turn around as Jonathan catches up with me. He's pink in the face and gasping for breath—and floating beside him is a hologram-creature with soft yellow fur.

My eyes go wide. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, only worn out," Jonathan replies hastily. "I'm glad to have caught up to you. Have you seen the others?" he asks, trying to steady his breathing.

Furrowing my brow, I try to think of when I last caught sight of them. "Recently. I saw Walter attempting to negotiate with an um, a surly-looking hologram. Isabeau was somewhere ahead of me, and Navarre slipped off into a side room." I point to one nearby us. "I don't believe he knows I watched him go in."

Jonathan lets out a thin, tired laugh. "I see. Have you had to fight many holograms?" He gives me a curious, and quite frankly, confused expression.

I blink in thought. "No, not particularly. Only a couple who wanted to prove something." I let out a soft sigh and rub my right shoulder. It aches from the weight of the sword, though it's akin to one of the tools I'd use back at home. I have just…not swung my tools in the way I must swing a sword. "They refused to talk with me."

"Ah, I see. That must be why you've hardly broken a sweat!" he says with a chuckle.

I go to reply, only, my Gauntlet vibrates hard. Commander Hope appears on the glass again. "_Prentices. I assume you've begun to understand the workings of the Gauntlet by this time._"

As Jonathan nods as he looks down at my Gauntlet, I do as well—though Burroughs helped me figure out much of it earlier in the morning. She also went a little beyond what I asked for, and I went beyond how much time I expected to have, and so, I most probably annoyed my fellows by being nearly late…

Commander Hope pauses. "_Jonathan, have you been with Flynn this entire time?_" His tone is one of a patient question, though I'm certain there is a rebuke hiding behind it.

"No, Sir, Jonathan just caught up with me," I hasten to reply.

"_I see. Well then, I task you five with your next test: defeat three holograms in battle. A Samurai must learn how to work alongside the enemy to defeat the enemy. Use your captured hologram's skills to aid you in combat. That is all._" He disappears, and my map returns to the glass again.

"_That's a new quest!_" both our Burroughs chimes at once.

I glance up at Jonathan, who taps something on the "menu," Burroughs called it, of his Gauntlet. He goes into one of her "applications" and look over toward mine. "How did you add that map?"

"Oh, Burroughs recommended it to me," I reply. "It's in the…applications to purchase area? Here…" I lean over to his Gauntlet and tap a few things. "See this?"

"Oh!" he utters. "Thank you, I must have missed what she told me…in some way."

His Burroughs speaks up with her usual plain tone, though if my ears deceive me, she's added some dryness to it. "_I did bring it up twenty-two minutes ago, but you were distracted with Al-Me, Master._"

I frown and follow Jonathan's glare up to that fluffy hologram. It reminds me a little of the rabbits I would find on our fields.

A huff escapes him. "Yes, I was. I should continue with the test, Flynn. Stay safe." He gives me a smile and hurries back the way he came.

With a sigh, I sheath my sword and rub my shoulder again. I finally settle my gaze on a blue hologram in the corridor ahead. I really wish they'd engage in battle with me more… It feels rather odd, being left out. Perhaps it is just a sick longing, but in a way, I wish I was the one attacked more instead of Jonathan.

I don't have as many to fight.

* * *

In a moment of silence after my battle against a hologram ended, my Gauntlet vibrates, and I lift it up as my map changes to the commander's face.

"Sir," I greet.

I've gone deep into Naraku—at least, as deep into this stratum as I can go without being told off again. Now I can only hope he hasn't contacted me to tell me to turn back. Once more.

"_Prentices,_" he says. I relax. He's not speaking to just me any longer. "_I have your final test—consider it fair game for a competition. The first to find this item wins the right to brag to your fellows. That is all. God bless._"

He disappears again, and I let out a small sigh and go into one of Burrough's applications as she cheerfully states that I have new quest. My finger hesitates over Inuma's name on the glass. It might be able to assist me.

But then I let my hand drop to my side, and I instead return the map to the glass instead. "It might damage whatever the item is…," I murmur. "Burroughs. Is there any information on this item of the commander's in your quest memo?"

"_No, unfortunately._" Her tone sounds disappointed. "_Though you may find it in one of the chests we've found scattered down here. Whatever this item is, you'll know it when you see it._"

"Fine."

I study the map, then nod and start down a path to my left.

**Walter**

With a huff, I throw myself down onto a boulder near the wall and lean back, exhausted. I feel like I've been searching for this item of Hope's for forever. Heck, I feel like I've been down here in Naraku for forever. All I've been seeing are these same moist, slimy walls—I can't even focus on finding a single object down here with the cave burned into my eyes.

I'd rather not, but…

I lift my Gauntlet up and put my head into my other hand. "Burroughs. Contact Flynn."

"_Contacting…_"

The glass flashes, and the worn-out face of Flynn appears in it. He grunts, and his surroundings shake as it appears he's climbing up something. "_Hoy,_" he finally says. The caves around him shift again as he stands up. "_This is new… How did I miss this…?_" I overhear him say, though it seemed to have been to himself.

"Hoy. How have you been fairing with finding this object?" I ask.

"_Difficult. It's rather difficult. I've been backtracking a dozen times by now._" He rubs his face with a muddy hand as he grimaces. "_I would quite like to leave here as soon as possible._"

I exhale. "I don't blame you. Er, where are you?"

"_I'm around an area where if I step any further, Commander Hope is going to contact me and tell me off again… The end of where we can go for this test, I suppose. This is most probably my fifth time around here._" He nods. "_Yes, I believe I'll call it thus._"

With a laugh, I say, "So, you're in The End of Where We Can Go for This Test? That's quite the location, Flynn!"

"_Yes, it— Oh? Hold on…_"

I straighten with a frown. "Hoy, what's going on?" An excited gasp escapes Flynn, one sudden enough it makes me jump, and the scene in the glass of my Gauntlet bounces and shifts to where all I'm seeing is a wall. When he starts cackling, I stand up and immediately look around me for a way to get to him. "Are you alright?!"

He, with exhilaration, says, "_Walter, I found—_"

The communication cuts out, and my blood freezes. "Flynn—?!" My Gauntlet lights up again as it vibrates, though instead of Flynn, I see Commander Hope. I slump my shoulders and muster up my best smile for him.

"_Your test is complete, prentices. Return to Aquila Plaza immediately._"

"Hoy, who won your little contest?" I ask—though I feel I already know the answer.

Hope, who was always inside the castle for these communications, is now outside. I'm seeing a setting sun, which is making my _heart_ set into my cramping stomach. "_Sir Flynn did. I'll see you hence._"

He disappears, and I frown as Flynn's face comes back in the glass. "Oh, so you're back," I say. "Congrats. What was that item, by the by?"

Flynn, a smile on his face, lifts up a tarnished wedding band. I furrow my brow. "_It was put in a small chest way up on a ledge. I can't believe I've passed it this many times…_" He exhales. "_Anyway, I'm about to head back now. Stay safe._"

"You as well. You showed those Luxurors, huh?" I say with a grin.

He chuckles a bit. "_I suppose so, Walter._"


	7. K's Tavern Late at Night

**Flynn**

I sigh and slip into a stool at the bar counter. The tavern is quiet, the only sounds being the man at the counter scrubbing out a glass and a couple of Samurai in the back of the room talking. For a moment, I close my eyes and listen to the squeaking of the glass against the rag. It stops—and then a rap on the wooden counter jerks my attention up to the weathered man behind it.

He gives a mirthful smile toward me and sets the glass down beside the rag. "Hoy there, Flynn," he greets, snapping a claw-like metal hand toward me. "What can I get you today? How about a nice juniper ale?"

Confused, I cock my head at him. "How do you know who I am?"

The man laughs. "I think everyone knows who you are by now. Congratulations, not many prentices pass Commander Hope's tests so well. And, it's not as if I'm trying to lose business by saying this, but you deserve a rest. It's late."

"I think I'll take the ale," I say, pressing my hand against my face.

With another chuckle, he turns around to put the drink together. "By the way, Commander Hope's planning on showing you five this place tomorrow. Do you want an advantage, Flynn?" He turns his head toward me and smiles mysteriously.

"Ahah… Why not, Sir?"

"I don't mess with formality here. Here, you call me K." The man returns to facing me as he slides over a wooden tankard.

I nod my thanks and grab the handle of the tankard. "By the way Walter had an advantage of already understanding his Gauntlet without being late, I feel I deserve one of my own."

K smirks a bit. "Seems your fellow got some advice from some of the other Samurai."

Frowning, I glance around the tavern and the pair of Samurai talking nearby. "Truly?" A scoff escapes me, and I steeple my hands against my forehead. "I suppose they also gave him a guide of the facilities in the castle, as well… I hardly know where anything is…"

"You weren't around when some of the senior Samurai showed the important areas?"

"I can blame a headache," I grumble. "I suppose I will have to ask Walter later on for some assistance."

"Ale will be good for that," K replies with a merry ring. "And plenty of rest."

I sigh. My gaze wanders to the torches on the walls lighting the place in a warm, dim glow as I take a drink of the ale. I've had the drink before—but never with juniper. It tastes like how Kicchigiorgi forest smells: piney. Like home. "That's…easier said than done."

K pauses and picks up a second glass to clean. "Have you tried some herbal teas? I've heard they work wonders for restless nights."

"How do I get something such as that?" I ask, curious.

"Ah," he utters, "the market I heard sells some every so often—you ought to check, maybe on patrol." He winks. "By the by, Flynn…" K leans in closer to me and lowers his voice into a hush. "That Samurai speaking to Jarod—the tall, gangly-looking man—in that corner there is Joshua. While speaking with me warrants no formality, with him it does."

I furrow my brow. "Why are you telling me this?" I ask.

"A good bar keeper is aware of everything. Joshua has been staring at you ever since you've come in." As I stiffen, K nods slowly and raises his voice to normal again as he adds, "Anyway, that's just the old rumor 'round these parts! One of these days I'll have to post my own quest to retrieve the darn thing from my cellar!"

I stare at him before realizing what he's done, and I laugh along with it. "Of course."

K turns to the two Samurai. "Hoy, Joshua! You should meet our new prentice before the commander shows the group around tomorrow."

The older Samurai beside Jarod, I believe, turns around in his seat and gives me a scowling, analytical frown. He brushes back his wavy brown and silver hair as he stands and heads toward us. I take another drink to try to make myself look more confident than I actually am as the Samurai sits beside me and casts K a quizzical glance.

K shrugs and sets the glass down. "You have your patrols tomorrow, correct? Then tonight's the perfect time to say hello to one of your new fellows!"

I flash K a panicked look I hide fast from the sullen Joshua, who turns his attention to me. "It's uncanny, isn't it, K?" he asks the man. He puts his arm across the counter—his Samurai coat and belt is slung over his chair, where his companion waits.

"That it is. Now, I've accrued quite a bit of knowledge from working this tavern… You never know, I've heard many tales of romances hidden from even fellow Samurai. At least, that's my theory for it." He brings back his mysterious smile. "I prefer not to think too deeply on things, I suppose."

I look to him in confusion. Just why did he call this man over if he's discussing something such as this? Are they meaning me?

The Samurai nods—slowly, suspiciously. He then lets out a slow exhale. "I suppose. He did keep his fair share of secrets." Turning to me again, he extends out his hand. I take it and shake hard. "My name is Joshua, prentice. What do they call you?"

"Flynn, Sir."

His thick eyebrows jump up. "_Flynn_? Now then, K, I bet that drink you gave him is ale with juniper, too."

"That's right, Joshua. Just like old times." He leans his back against the opposite counter and throws the rag over his shoulder. "And you like it, don't you, Flynn?"

I awkwardly chuckle. "I'm not sure how you knew it'd bring back home, but it does."

"Call it K's instinct!"

Sir Joshua gives me an odd glance as he props his chin up on his fist. "Home, huh? Where's home for you, Flynn?"

My gaze falls to the floorboards. "Kicchigiorgi."

I hear the man let out a short, surprised utter. "That's a long way off. I'll admit," he starts, making me look back up. Suddenly his demeanor has changed so much, and his taut, cold expression's warms enough to be considered welcoming. "I grew up in a Luxuror household myself, but being in the Samurai as long as I have, you learn to appreciate all walks of life. I suppose if you wanted it all the same, the job would get dull quick."

I nod in reply and give a tight smile. It feels strange, casually talking to a senior Samurai. Especially one who acted such as that.

Joshua pauses a moment, then looks off in thought. "Are you the only Casualry this year?"

"No, um, there's Walter. The other three are all Luxurors."

His blue eyes go wide. "Five prentices have been chosen this year? Incredible," he utters to K, who nods. "The year I was chosen, we had only three—all Luxurors! Ah, we were the bane of Sir Hope's existence. I must admit, the times were good then."

"Commander Hope trained you, as well?" I ask.

Joshua dryly laughs. "No, no, at the time he was just our senior and was tasked with overseeing us. He took a special dislike toward our attitudes… Like I said, however, you must learn to accept and appreciate all lifestyles. My fellows…took their time in understanding that."

"If I recall correct, you took your time learning that, as well, Joshua."

He scowls. "Hush, K, I'm trying to welcome in the new prentice."

"You keep on flattering yourself," he says with a grin.

Both myself and Sir Joshua look up as the other Samurai, Jarod, walks over to us. He puts a hand on Sir Joshua's shoulder as he sighs out, "I'm going to call it a night, Sir. Thank you for the discussion." His eyes land on me, though he says nothing, turning curtly back to the senior Samurai. After bowing his head quick, he strides to the door and pulls it shut behind him.

"I should call it as well, K," Sir Joshua says. "I'll leave you with your new night owl." He stands and walks over to his chair. After a moment of pulling his coat on, he grabs a tankard and sets it down on the counter. "Good to meet you in advance, prentice."

I watch as he too leaves the tavern, and with the door's closing comes a silence more heavy than when I first came in.

K turns his attention up, to a large chalkboard beside the bar counter. "Right, I suppose I ought to show you our little game before your fellows get to see it…"

**Walter**

I once again stand before this…other Flynn in this otherworldly, brightly-lit place. My white Samurai boots scuff against the tar-like ground as I approach him, who keeps one hand over his grimacing face.

"Why am I dreaming of you again?" I ask—my tone coming out most hostile than I meant it.

The man is most certainly Flynn, but different. Instead of his white bandana, this one wears a red scarf tied in a way a Luxuror might wear it. And yet again, he's holding his sword before him like a cane.

And by the way he scowls at me and moves his hand down to brush dirt off of his Samurai coat, I get the sense that even his personality is different. Unless that is, Flynn hides more than he shows. I've only known him for a couple of days. Perhaps this is his true personality.

"Why are you—" A scoff escapes him. "Why are _you_ dreaming of _me_ again? Why am I dreaming of you again, _that_ is the proper question."

I let out a huff. "Fine. And I suppose I ought to thank you, too."

Flynn gives me a tight smile. "Yes." His fingers drum on his opposite arm, outstretched to hold his sword. "Don't be discouraged with your tests, Walter. After all, you have much to prove and many opportunities to do so." As his gaze drifts off, he adds, "Power belongs to the strong and is earned by the tenacious. If you're going to earn your strength, you must prove your worth."

In the distance, I hear grunting, and I whirl around. The streets are empty save for us two.

Flynn mutters something under his breath and opens his mouth to say something more—

And the brightly-lit, foreign world blinks away as I wake up to angry grunts.

Moaning, I open one eye and throw my arm over my forehead. The weak light of dawn trickles through the window, but it's mostly silhouetted by Jonathan's stooped figure sitting on the windowsill. He doesn't notice my staring as he jerks a comb through his hair.

From the bed across from mine, Navarre snores and turns toward me. I wrinkle my nose.

The sheets crumple as I slip out of bed. My bare feet pad softly across the floor, and Jonathan's so wrapped up in what he's doing that he doesn't notice as I near his back. I reach out and tap his shoulder.

Shudders rake his body as he whips around, panic in his eyes. I raise my hands up, and his surprise subsides, though his body is still rigid. "Walter. I-I apologize, did I wake you?" he manages out after a moment of stunned silence.

"No," I lie. "Why are you up before the sun?" I remember my mother always used to say that; if the sun wasn't above the horizon, it wasn't quite time yet to awaken.

"It was so late when we returned that I never had time to fix my hair, so…" He trails off as he continues breaking the metal comb in his hand.

He goes to unbend one of its teeth when I grab his hand. "Stop. You're hurting the pick more than doing anything for your hair."

"Walter—"

"Let me help," I say, taking it from him. As I go to part his wild hair where the slime from Naraku is stuck in it, sharp pain hits my temple, and I crash to the floor. "Hey!"

Navarre snorts and curls up tighter in his covers.

Jonathan's eyes glint in the weak sunlight. "Don't touch my hair."

"Geez, Luxuror much?" I mutter, sitting up.

He immediately winces and turns away, pulling his legs up to his chin. How he can balance on that windowsill is a mystery to me.

I go and pick up the comb off the floor. "Now settle down and let me get this slime out of your hair."

"No."

I snort. "Like you're succeeding by yourself."

Jonathan goes to argue further, but falters and sighs. "I apologize."

"Well, stop, and let me help you!" I grab at his hair with one hand and catch the end of the comb into it with my other. As I get through his tangles, a long bump catches my finger, and then another, and Jonathan flinches.

What is…

As the light from the sunrise gets stronger, I part his hair further, and thick scars illuminate on the surface of his scalp. Jonathan keeps his lips pressed tight together. I say nothing and continue combing his hair out, and once the slime is at least broken up, I pull away, and he grabs at his head faster than I can blink.

"You saw them." His voice is a total deadpan.

I shrug, bothered. "They're just scars."

"J-just scars?" Now I see why he keeps his face turned away: embarrassment.

"Geez, are you Luxurors that concerned about appearances? I have…" A stupid smirk touches my lips. "…too many scars to count at this point." I sit underneath the windowsill, and Jonathan peers down at me. "I grew up in a fishing village a ways off from Mikado Castle. Contrary to rumor," I chuckle, "I'm not that great of a fisherman." I pull my robes away and turn toward him. "See this one? I got it when I was seven. When I thought my hook went toward the water, it, uh, went the opposite direction."

The horror on Jonathan's face is laughable. "What?! It had to have hurt!"

"Yeah, you bet it did. But my mother was there." I gaze at the closed door that leads into the corridor. "She made me feel better when no one else could have."

"I…never…had anyone." I pause and look up to him. Loneliness aches in his amber eyes as his attention drifts to the silhouetted buildings outside the window. "My mother and father are always away at the monastery. I barely recall their faces. I don't even think my father knows that I'm a Samurai."

"But, the scarves…"

"I only had one of the monks inform my father that I had found friends."

"Well, you have to tell him!" You didn't even ask him yourself?!

"And tell him what?" Jonathan says, his tone rising. "That I am only what he had expected? No. I have to prove myself to him first. Then I can say that I am a Samurai who can protect our kingdom. I'm nothing right now."

"You're noth—?" A crushing sensation weighs on my heart. Why do you believe that? I saw you fight, Jonathan, your parents would be proud of you.

But I can't find the strength to put that into words.

Navarre groans and sits up. We both jump and turn toward him. "Why do you insist upon talking at such ungodly hours of the morn…" Maybe it's just the exhaustion in his voice, but his tone seems off. I try to hold back sniggers when I see Navarre's bedhead—as if his entire pompadour was smashed. The cowlick's even still there!

Jonathan cringes. "I apologize, Navarre." He leans over and lightly hits me, and as he shakes his head, he fights a smile himself. "Walter, I'm going to wash. I would advise you to do the same." With an impish expression, he slips off the windowsill and walks to the dresser. "Why, it smells as if the entirety of Naraku has moved in with us!" He pulls out a clean Samurai uniform and strides out the door.

"Hoy…" I say, my face flushing with humiliation.

Navarre mutters something, shakes his head, and stretches. "You had something to do with this."

"What, me? No," I say with a wide smile. He scowls, and I can't help but laugh.

As I start toward the dresser, I glance back at Navarre, who looks away as he sits on the side of the bed and goes to change.

"Relax, Luxuror, I won't change in your presence," I grumble, grabbing my own clean uniform and starting off for the corridor. As I close the door behind me, I hear a sigh that sounds strangely lonely.


End file.
